So Long and Goodnight
by Smile-I'mTheEndOfAllThatYouSee
Summary: Losing a father or mother is hard. Losing both parents is even harder. Darry, Ponyboy, and Soda have to face this hardship and say good-bye.


**Disclaimer: don't own _The Outsiders _or "Helena" by: My Chemical Romance**

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><p><em><strong>Long ago<br>Just like the hearse, you die to get in again  
>We are so far from you<strong>_

**Ponyboy**

Darry, Soda, me, and the rest of the gang were pallbearers. I carried your coffin, Dad, so did Darry, Soda, and Two-Bit. Johnny, Dally, Steve, and some altar boy were pallbearers for your coffin, Mom. Going up the aisle with Dad's coffin on my back felt like I was carrying the Ark of the Covenant – sacred and holy. The word "coffin" chokes in my throat. That word should never be associated with your names. Look at me! I'm thirteen-going-on-fourteen, and I'm crying like a seven-year-old whose dog just ran away. Honestly, I don't care. I don't care if crying makes me look like a baby. It's the only thing I can do now. Carrying Dad's coffin took all the strength out of me, leaving me with none to hold the tears back. It's really funny in a sick kind of way. Dad is on my back separated only by a few inch thick piece of wood and Mom is only ten feet away from me, but it feels as though Mom and Dad are a million light years away.

_**Burning on  
>Just like a match you strike to incinerate<br>The lives of everyone you know**_

**Darry**

I carried roof bundles heavier than this coffin before, but I could not feel the strain of the coffin's wait. Just the strain of agony and sadness hurting my shoulder and pulling my muscles. It's been a week since we received the new of Mom and Dad's death, and I still feel dumbstruck. Dad's only forty, and Mom's only thirty-nine and yet, they're dead. They should be dead when their old and gray. Not when their young with two kids who still depend on them and one who, although an adult, still loves spending time with them, especially with Dad. I was never the religious type. I'm actually more of an atheist than a Protestant but half of me is pleading with God to bring them back and the other half wants to beat God to death for taking our parents away from us. I'm not sure which half is stronger. It's not far to the altar, but it looks like a thousand miles away. And it keeps looking farther and farther away. I'm moving in a dreamlike state. The way to the altar feels so surreal. The only thing keeping me from going numb is the agony ripping at my heart and soul and painfully straining my shoulders.

**And what's the worst you take**  
><strong>(Worst you take)<strong>  
><strong>From every heart you break<strong>  
><strong>(Heart you break)<strong>  
><strong>And like a blade you stain<strong>  
><strong>(Blade you stain)<strong>  
><strong>Well, I've been holding on tonight<strong>

**Soda**

Emotion is ripping through me until it finds its way out of my body in the form of tears. I begin to bawl like a baby. I don't even have the dignity to manage a straight, solemn face as I hold Dad up. Whatever. I don't care. I never possessed this dignity. Why start now? The only thing that's keeping me from collapsing on the floor, crying, is Dad's coffin on my shoulders. I can't let my own father fall down with Pony, Darry, and Two-Bit straining to keep him a lift. I'm shivering, not because it's so cold in here, because sobs are racking my body, nearly pushing me to the ground. My legs feel like Jell-O. It takes all my strength not to fall down. I wish I had Darry's muscles and emotional strength. He's so strong even when faced with tragedy. I'm usually a happy-go-lucky guy who could get drunk on life. Today, I'm the opposite of who I am. I can't feel alive and happy when death is on my shoulders and tears are pouring from my eyes life a waterfall. I feel like a skeleton. I still feel drunk though, or at least my legs do. This time, I don't like it. I really need Darry's strength.

**What's the worst that I could say?**  
><strong>Things are better if I stay<strong>  
><strong>So long and goodnight<strong>  
><strong>So long and goodnight<strong>

**Darry**

Your coffins are in front of the alter now, but I can't keep from helping that I wish it was me in the car instead of you two. I was supposed to use that car to take Kayla out. Mom, Dad, you remember her. We never dated in high school, but we were good friends, and she's a real good looking girl. Smart, too. I saw her at the grocery store again. It's been two years since we saw each other, and I wanted to catch up with her so we ended up talking for an hour. I ended the conversation saying that I'll take her to dinner this Friday night and she agreed. I wanted to take the Chevy because it looked much nicer than our Ford. Then Kayla got sick and had to cancel on me so you two took the Chevy for a date night. Where you were heading was the same route I would have taken to Kayla's house. I wish it was me in that car. It should have been me in that car. But maybe it's better that I'm still alive. The paramedics said you both died a quick and painless death. On the other hand, I'm in agony, and I feel as though I'm slowly dying inside. They do say that the survivors hurt more than the dead. If it was me in the coffin rather than you, well, the pain you two must feel would be worse than what I'm feeling right now because someone told me that the pain of losing a child is the worst pain imaginable. A high school teacher who lost her daughter told me that. She was an absolute wreck when she got the news of her daughter's death, but when her parents died, she just cried for a little bit in front of the class. If a parent could be instantly destroyed by the death of their child, how would you feel if I were the one dead and not you? Probably worse off than I am.

**Came a time**  
><strong>When every star fall<strong>  
><strong>Brought you to tears again<strong>  
><strong>We are the very hurt you sold<strong>

**Ponyboy**

So many memories of you are resurfacing even ones long buried deep within my subconscious, so deep that I forgot about them until now. Mom, I remember when I was little and had a nightmare, you would wrap a blanket around me, make some hot chocolate, and with me on your lap, we would sit on the porch swing and watch the stars and the moon in the night sky until I fell asleep. You would comfort me, sing me lullaby, or sometimes tell me a funny story until I ceased crying and laughed. Dad, I remember when you took the three of us camping and hunting in the countryside near Windrixville when I was ten. That night while Darry and Soda were fast asleep, I was still awake. I couldn't sleep so I crawled out of the tent that I shared with Soda and stared at the stars. There were so many of them, and it was so beautiful that I wished I had my drawing pad so I can sketch each and every one of them. You came out and lied with me and pointed out all the constellations and told the stories behind them. You even told me where the North Star was just in case I ever got lost. Now both of you are dead. Are you in the stars now? Are you looking down at us, guiding us just like the stars?

**And what's the worst you take**  
><strong>(Worst you take)<strong>  
><strong>From every heart you break<strong>  
><strong>(Heart you break)<strong>  
><strong>And like the blade you stain<strong>  
><strong>(Blade you stain)<strong>  
><strong>Well, I've been holding on tonight<strong>

**Darry**

I miss you so much, but I cannot cry. Not in front of my brothers. They need me to be strong, especially Soda, who's bawling his eyes out. When I first got news of your death, it felt like I was stabbed in the heart. Now the blade is gone, but I still feel its pain. I just want to scream and scream until I break down in tears. It's so hard to keep this agony inside. Any minute, I'm gonna wail like a hurt animal. I'm the one who's supposed to deliver the eulogy. How can I manage to keep from breaking down when I'm already having trouble now? I'm barely holding on. I want to will myself to become numb to not feel anything anymore, but the most I can do is to jam my fists into my pockets. Surprisingly, it keeps me from lashing out at anyone who says that they're damn sorry that I lost my parents when they're really not, but more importantly, balling my hands into fists gets rid of some of the agony. It's not much, but it's better than nothing.

**What's the worst that I could say?**  
><strong>Things are better if I stay<strong>  
><strong>So long and goodnight<strong>  
><strong>So long and goodnight<strong>

**Soda**

I finally break down. I remember when my ornery pony Mickey Mouse got sold to some stranger, I bawled all night long. I didn't think I could cry any harder than I did then. I was wrong. This is so much worse than when Mickey Mouse was sold. These are my parents! They're dead! I could always find Mickey Mouse and see him again, but I would never see Mom or Dad again unless if I die. This cold, hard fact nearly kills me. And a new cold, hard fact enters my mind bringing with it a fear. I'm only sixteen! I still need Mom and Dad. What am I going to do now? No. What's going to happen now? Pony and me are too young to live in the adult world without parents. What if social services put us in a boy's home? We'll be separated from Darry and possibly separated from separated from each other. Darry and Pony are the only family I have left. I can't live without them. I need them!

**Well, if you carry on this way**  
><strong>Things are better if I stay<strong>  
><strong>So long and goodnight<strong>  
><strong>So long not goodnight<strong>

**Ponyboy**

Besides sadness, I can't help but feel afraid. I'm afraid of being put in a boy's home. I don't wanna go! I already lost my parents. I don't want to be separated from my brothers. They're the only ones I got left. If they die, then what's the point of spending your life all alone in a world that avoids you because you're a greaser? I swear if I do get put into a boy's home, I'll find Soda and together we'll run away to our house where Darry can hide us like how Good Samaritans hid Jews during the Holocaust. Life will be more tolerable and a bit better if Soda and me got to stay with Darry. Maybe that could happen. I learned early that fairy tales could never happen in our neighborhood. Why should it happen now? Mom and Dad are dead, and what's the likelihood of two greasers getting to live with their oldest, soon-to-be college bound brother with little money and a bad neighborhood and JD friends? Very small, I guess. Mom used to make me believe that fairy tales could come true. Maybe, I can pretend she is telling me one so I can believe that Soda and me living with Darry could come true.

**Can you hear me?**  
><strong>Are you near me?<strong>  
><strong>Can we pretend?<strong>  
><strong>To leave and then<strong>  
><strong>We'll meet again<strong>  
><strong>When both our cars collide<strong>

**Soda**

The cops told us that your car malfunctioned on the train tracks, and a freight train hit it at full speed. You didn't have any time to get out. I worked on that car the night before the accident. I was working on the engine, wanting to see how it worked. Now I wonder. Was it my fault that the car malfunctioned? It probably was, and now you're dead because of my stupid curiosity. I bawl even harder. I feel like a murderer. I didn't mean for this to happen. I only wanted to take a look at the engine. I'm so sorry. Mom, Dad, can you hear me still? I didn't mean for this to happen, and I'm sorry. I cry my eyes out some more. It's amazing that my eyes aren't dry out by now. What if Darry and Pony find out about what I did? They would hate me. Oh God, if they really do find out and really do hate me for it, I would probably just get in the Ford and crash it into some damn tree. Maybe if I don't go to hell, I can see you two again, and no one will die. But for now, good-bye, Mom and Dad. I love you.

**What's the worst that I could say?**  
><strong>Things are better if I stay<strong>  
><strong>So long and goodnight<strong>  
><strong>So long not goodnight<strong>

**Darry**

The funeral's nearly over. This hell is nearly over. So far, my foundation has not shaken and crumbled even when I delivered the eulogy. I'm learning to numb the pain now. Protecting myself from this hurt. My wall will be truly complete when this funeral is done and you are lowered into the ground. Still, one thing can't be numbed. No, two things really. I used to be not afraid of anything. Now I'm terrified of losing Soda and Ponyboy by death and by social services. I'm the oldest brother. I'm suppose to protect my youngest brothers, but I'm terrified that something bad will happen to them, and I will end up losing them just like Mom and Dad. I can't let that happen! I'll even kill someone or die myself if it means keeping those two alive. Not only do I have to fear death taking Pony and Soda away from me but social services, too. Without a shadow of a doubt, will they take Soda and Pony and put them in a boy's home. They're only sixteen and thirteen, too young to live without a parent or a legal guardian. I can't let them take my brothers away from me. Who knows what will happen to them? I'm twenty-years-old. I am no longer considered a minor anymore. Maybe, I can apply for legal guardianship of Pony and Soda. I have to. Mom and Dad would want me to. As soon as the funeral is over, I will march over to social services and demand legal guardianship of my brothers. Mom, Dad, please help me do my best in raising Soda and Pony just as you have done to me and them. I will do my best. I won't let you or my brothers down. Good-bye. I love you.

**Well, if you carry on this way**  
><strong>Things are better if I stay<strong>  
><strong>So long and goodnight<strong>  
><strong>So long and goodnight<strong>

**Ponyboy**

The funeral is over. Now it's time to bury you. I guess this is it. You really are gone. I miss you guys so much! I used to get a lot of nightmares when I was a little kid. I hated them so much. Now I truly wish this was a nightmare so that way when I wake up, Mom would soothe me and wipe away my tears and Dad will tickle me all other until I laugh so hard that I forget the nightmare I just had. But this isn't some dream, it's reality, and no matter how hard Darry and Soda could tickle me, the memory will never leave. It feels as though memory is equivalent to nightmare, and nightmare is equivalent to a good dream. It's all mixed up. When will things be right again? I can't help but feel jealous of Soda and Darry, especially Darry. Both of them had Mom and Dad loner than I did. Darry even had Mom and dad thoughout his whole childhood and teenage years and a little bit of his adult years. That will never happen to me. They died as soon as I become a teenager. They will never see me when I graduate from high school and go off to college. They will never watch me get married. They will never get to hold my first child or any kids after that. It's not fair! Why can't I have them longer? People are starting to clear out. It's time to go. Good-bye, Mom and Dad. I hope you're looking down on us. I love you.

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><p><strong>So did I get Darry's, Soda's, and Pony's feelings right? It was hard for some of them to write.<strong>


End file.
